


It just kind of is what it is

by beenicetobees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s12e06 Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox, Hell Trauma, M/M, Season/Series 12, That Asshole at the Wake, Unrequited Crush, Witch Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28374519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beenicetobees/pseuds/beenicetobees
Summary: "He said that she said that Garth said that you were possessed by the Devil? Like, Lucifer. The actual big, bad Devil, and you lived?”--Sam’s magic was intense. It smelled like red wine and forest fires, and it made Max a little bit uncomfortable. Obviously it made Sam uncomfortable too, seeing as it was tied up in rope in the middle of his soul.
Relationships: Max Banes/Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 73





	It just kind of is what it is

**Author's Note:**

> I love this episode, I think it's so underrated. There's so much about it that I like, but this scene in particular makes me so happy. When Max and Alicia stand up for Sam's boundaries I always start cheering, so I thought, but what if witch Sam? So here we are. I hope you enjoy!

The guy introduced himself as Sam, no last name. He was tall, and pretty. He was rugged, sure, but everyone here was rugged, and at least this guy looked like he knew what conditioner was. He made small-talk, albeit badly, but the awkwardness was kinda cute. He looked like a kid who had just hit his growth spurt and was self-conscious of the space he suddenly took up. 

He asked them about why they were here, and Alicia made up some lie about how Asa was a family friend, and that they weren’t attending their father’s funeral. He asked the standard ‘how did you get into hunting’ question. That shouldn’t be an ice breaker. It’s literally always a sad answer. Max put that on the cons list for trying to get this guy’s number, but it wasn’t a deal breaker, especially since he looked interested enough in their story, and he didn’t seem like he was going to start shooting when Alicia mentioned that their mom was a witch. Makes sense, Max could feel the power coming off of him in waves. 

Sam’s magic was intense. It smelled like red wine and forest fires, and it made Max a little bit uncomfortable. Obviously it made Sam uncomfortable too, seeing as it was tied up in rope in the middle of his soul. Max hadn’t seen knots so tight since his friend Damien messed up that curse and ended up accidentally binding his magic. But this looked intentional.  _ Hunters, _ he thought sadly. Could never do anything quite right. 

“So what did she teach you?” Max snapped out of his thoughts to hear Sam address him, and put on a winning smile.

“Mostly how to seduce men,” he responded, leaning even further back against the sofa. Sam chuckled lightly nodding exaggeratedly. God his face was so stupid. They should get married. 

“And she taught him some magic, which is actually more useful.” Alicia corrected, hitting him on the shoulder. 

“Mostly the men thing,” he joked. Sam caught his eye and sort of half-smiled. Okay. Big addition to the pros list. Jesus. Max opened his mouth to keep the chemistry going when a hunter sat in between them, interrupting their whole conversation.

“Are you Sam Winchester?” He asked. Winchester. Where does he know that name? “You are right? Oh this is nuts. Wow. Hi.” The guy looked at Sam like he was some sort of celebrity. 

“Uh, hey,” Sam just looked confused. And uncomfortable. Fuck this guy. 

“Uh, Elvis. Um. Katz.” he reached out and shook Sam’s hand, “Wow. Look, so thing is, I got this friend down in the States, right, who knows this girl who knew your pal Garth.”

“Garth, yeah,”

“And, well, he said that she said that Garth said that you were possessed by the Devil?” Oh no. That’s where he knew that name. “Like, Lucifer. The actual big, bad Devil,” What the fuck? What the hell is this guy's problem? Did he not see how uncomfortable Sam looked? “and you lived?” 

“Woah!” Max and Alicia said in unison. The guy looked over at them.

“Dude, you don’t just ask someone about something that messed up,” Alicia scolded.

“Seriously, not cool.” Max added. Sam fidgeted in his seat.

“But it’s pretty amazing, huh?” the guy said, like a douchebag. Sam's magic twisted and tumbled in it’s makeshift prison, and Max could see the ropes getting tighter. Sam spoke up. 

“It’s really- not that amazing, it just kinda, um, is what it is, um…” he swallowed sharply, and the panic showed clearly in his eyes. This sucked. Despite his best wishes, Max pitied him a little. “I’m gonna, uh, get a beer. You good?” The twins nodded, and he rushed off, leaving a trail of fermented smoke in his wake. 

The asshole tried to make conversation with them, but they would not stand for that. Soon enough, he was gone, and Max got up to go find Sam. They knew without any doubt or discussion that only Max would go. 

It wasn’t hard to find him. Sam was big, physically and spiritually. He was out in the garden, leaning against a tall tree. His breathing was leveled and careful, his left thumb worrying the palm of his right hand. He looked distressed, but not like he was in the middle of having a panic attack, which Max was grateful for. 

Max quietly made his way over to him, and rested his shoulder blades against the moss covered wood. He took a deep breath in, looking up at the stars through the branches overhead. Sam cleared his throat gently, but didn’t say anything. In the corner of his eye, Max could see him looking at the grass, his hair falling in his face. He wanted to reach out and brush it back, but he wasn’t stupid. He had the feeling that getting any closer than where he was right then would not be at all appreciated.

“Sorry he said that to you,” Max started, as biting wind blew through the leaves. Sam shivered. “That was really shitty of him.” Shitty doesn’t even begin to cover it. The most traumatic experience of someone’s life isn’t something you bring up at a party, especially to a complete stranger. Sam hummed. 

“Nah, it’s alright,” he deflected, but the ropes around his magic pulled tighter. Tendrils of power spilled out, surrounding Sam like the thick fog. The musty smell was overwhelming, but Max tried to ignore it. In the distance, an owl hooted.

“No man, you shouldn’t have to deal with that crap. You were just trying to enjoy the party.” Sam chuckled darkly.

“It’s a funeral.”

“It’s a wake,” Max corrected. “It’s supposed to be fun.” Sam scoffed, looking back at the house.

“It’s fine,” he swallowed thickly, “happens all the time.” Max sighed. 

“It shouldn’t.” Sam looked him in the eyes for the first time since they started talking. In the low light, Max could still see their beautiful hazel color, the ring of fire that surrounded his pupils. He smiled sadly, and looked away again. Max felt a pang of loss. 

“He wasn’t trying to be mean. He seemed like he genuinely thought I was cool.” Sam laughed, brushing the hair out of his eyes, “That’s much better than how it used to be.” 

And Max remembered, even though he had been a teenager during the apocalypse. He remembered how his mother’s hunter friends had talked about what they would do to Sam Winchester if they ever bumped into him, how they would curse his name when anything would go wrong, regardless of if he had anything to do with it. He couldn’t imagine what Sam’s life must have been like after he made the worst mistake a person could make. 

And how he paid for it. God. Max shuddered at the thought. 

“Still,” Max continued, “He shouldn’t have brought that up. I’ve never been possessed, but I have a friend who has been, only a low level demon, nothing like what happened to you, but he said it was the worst violation. I can’t imagine…” He stopped talking when he heard Sam’s breath hitch, and he looked over to see the man crumpling in on himself, pressing harder into his hand. Way to fucking go Max. 

“Hey,” he said, “I’m sorry, we can talk about something else. Sam?” Sam didn’t respond, and continued lowering himself down to the ground. The ropes around his magic were tightening so quickly Max was scared they were going to break. Pushing down his own panic, Max followed him to the earth, the grass wet from the evening air. 

He took deep, measured breaths, tying to make his breathing loud enough that Sam could latch on to it. He let his magic seep out into the night, teal and cool, trying to transfer some calm energy to the trembling giant beside him. A few minutes passed before Max felt Sam’s grip on his power loosen, and his muscles relaxed. It was another few minutes before either of them spoke.

“Sorry,” Sam whispered, leaning his head heavily against the trunk of the tree.

“No I’m sorry,” Max replied, “I shouldn’t have…” he trailed off, not wanting to bring the conversation back to the devil. Sam picked a blade of grass and started absentmindedly shredding it. The leaves rustled overhead. 

“I like your magic,” Sam said after a long silence. Max jumped at the sound of his voice, then smiled softly. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t expect Sam to be able to sense or recognize magic. He didn’t know if it made him feel better or worse that Sam could appreciate other’s magic while repressing his own. “Rain and… what else?” The half-smile was back. Max’s heart skipped a beat.

“Black pepper,” he told him. 

“Black pepper.” Sam rubbed his hands together to warm them up, the small grin still on his face. 

“I like your magic too,” Max lied, then mentally facepalmed. He was a horrible liar, but even if he wasn’t the rainstorm in his chest would give him away. Sam looked him in the eyes again, lopsided smile turned sad.

“Thanks for saying so,” he said gently, wiping the dew from the grass off on his jeans, “I know it’s abrasive. It makes most people uncomfortable.”

“I wouldn’t say abrasive,” Max tried, “probably more overwhelming. But it’s not bad.” He wasn’t lying. There wasn’t anything bad about Sam’s magic. Sam’s magic was loud and painful, but it wasn’t bad. 

“It used to be prettier. It used to be all red wine and cornfields and oak trees, but it got burned up in hell. It’s, um, it’s broken now.” 

And Max’s heart shattered. Because it  _ wasn’t _ .

“This probably isn’t my place,” Max said, desperate, “but maybe the binding has something to do with that?”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. He honestly looked  _ confused. _ “It’s dangerous,” he stated. 

“So is a caged animal,” Max retorted quickly. He needed to get through to him before it was too late. “Things in enclosed spaces decay, Sam. If you keep those ropes that tight, sooner or later something’s going to break, and you won’t recognize what comes out.” 

Sam’s eyes widened in fear, and the ropes started tightening again, but Sam took control of his knee-jerk reaction as soon as it started and took a deep breath. Slowly, he let some slack back into the binding, his forehead wrinkled with focus. 

When his magic was allowed to return to a comfortable size, and the tendrils of fog retreated back into his soul, Sam blew out a sharp breath, disturbing the strand of hair that had made its way to the center of his face. He pushed it behind his ear, allowing Max to see his full jawline. He felt bad about the way the small reveal made him feel, seeing as Sam was obviously having an important moment, but he couldn’t help himself.

Sam Winchester was devastatingly beautiful.

“What if I loosen the ropes too much, and I can’t control it anymore?” Sam asked, drumming his fingers against his knees. He sounded genuinely curious, and Max wondered how many light witches this guy had talked to. He had a feeling he knew the answer, and he didn’t like it. 

“That won’t happen. Even if you drop the ropes altogether, it’s a part of you, just as much as breathing, or your heartbeat. It cannot separate itself from you, so it is always within your control. You just have to remember that in the moment, so you don’t end up too afraid.” He cleared his throat, trying to come up with a good analogy to make Sam understand, “It’s like a panic attack, when you have to remind yourself to breathe,” 

Sam nodded, then pushed up off the ground, brushing the mud and grass off his jeans. He extended a rough slender hand out to Max, who took it as he stood up, reveling in the electricity he felt as their skin touched. He held on for just a moment too long before reluctantly breaking contact. 

“So are you ready to go back inside?” Max asked, shuffling slightly from foot to foot. “Don’t worry, if you stick with me I’ll make sure you don’t get harassed by any more douchebags.” He smiled hopefully, looking up through his eyelashes at the man in front of him. Sam chuckled, his grin widening until Max could see the start of dimples on his cheeks. His stomach twisted up tighter than Sam’s ropes as he waited for an answer.

“Thanks,” Sam replied, “but I should really go find my brother. He’s probably hammered by now.” 

Max’s heart plummeted, but he tried not to let his disappointment show on his face or in his magic. He hoped he succeeded, but he couldn’t tell. Sam didn’t show any signs of having noticed. “Okay,” he whimpered, “Have a great night,”

“You too,” Sam gave a polite nod, then turned to leave.

“Wait,” Max blurted, reaching out to grab Sam’s arm. Sam flinched at the sudden contact and Max put up his hands apologetically, “I just wanted to say… I really do like your magic, Sam.”

And he wasn’t lying. Sam’s magic was impossibly old, and deep, and suffocating. And it was friendly, like being around a campfire, like an overeager new friend who just wants to make you feel better, like seedlings growing from ashes after the land was wiped clear by flames. Sam Winchester was beautiful, and vast, and larger than life, and just like everybody else. 

He smiled that gorgeous half-smile, and waved goodbye. And when Max passed through Asa’s doorway and something about it was wrong, he barely noticed, because all he could see was sparks flying in those hazel eyes, and burgundy smoke mixed with black pepper rain.


End file.
